It’s Monday morning. The air clings at your exposed upper body. The pressure in your head has changed slightly; today’s the first day of the year you can rightly deem part of Spring.

It’s early but the sun’s mostly beaten you out of bed. Walking downstairs doesn’t require awkwardly fumbling for switches or running your hands along the walls to keep from tripping on your nearly vertical stairs.

You’ve got just enough time to shower and get yourself a microwaved mug of instant coffee, so you do. While still dripping you sip the warm liquid in the kitchen while looking out the window onto the now greener backyard. The Halloween pumpkin you left in the garden mocks you.

With a grunt you move into the office and turn on your computer. You had plans on the weekend but didn’t really get to them. Not all of them. Not entirely. Now it’s time to give your time to someone else.

The day passes slowly but steadily. You used to feel it passing; it scraped along your mind like a blunt knife. Now you barely notice. You’d find that strange if your imagination still worked properly.

You planned to make lunch but you didn’t. You buy lunch instead and someone else brings it to you. You never see them. You like your sandwich and sugary drink.

More typing, more clicking. You wonder, not for the first time, if anyone ever sees the things you make. You wonder if they make a difference. You remember that you still have cookies. You have some cookies.

The computer time is over. Now you can try to finish what you kind of started on the weekend. Or should you just embrace how tired you are? You decide to sit on your couch and look at a different screen from the one you looked at all day. But for the most part the smaller screen you have in your hand distracts you from that other screen.

The sun goes down. It’s darker again, the cold returns but it’s not as bad as before. Guess it really is Spring. You smile.

You’re tired. But that’s not new. You were tired when you woke up. You brush your teeth and look at yourself in the mirror as you do. You’re not sure about you anymore. You keep looking yourself in the eyes expecting an answer but you know there isn’t one coming.

You go upstairs, you lie down. You run your fingers over yet another screen without answers for a while. You’re drowsy. You set aside your screens. You turn the lights off. You close your eyes. You have dreams but you don’t feel them; nor will you remember them.

Notes: I guess we'll call that a short story or a writing exercise of some kind...